I find it exceedingly disappointing and frustrating that when I search the tag ‘Native American’, I am directed to one pic after another of white people wearing warbonnets (headdresses). Faaaaawk. Please, please - go get your own identity. It will mean so much more to you if you do so.
When I’m 80 years old and sitting in my rocking chair, I’ll be reading Harry...– Alan Rickman (via theresapotterinpanem)
Barack Obama Being Adorable with Adorable Children
alexleo: (Source of images)
Dear College Kids, If You Dress in an Ironically...
gawkercom: When it actually happened- it being, when I was punched in the face by a black man for wearing what I was wearing for Halloween- is a bit of blur. The before part anyway. The after came into focus so sharply and so quickly, it took a while to process. That is until the blood came gushing out. The exchange before the guy punched me in the face was simple: he screamed something to the...
musicdiscoveryradio: Fix You Orchestral Version...
Could You Back Up? Your Identity Issues Are...
I have a pretty good command of the English language. I use ‘five dollar words’, as one of my brothers calls them, all the time. I don’t do it to be obnoxious; I just like to be able to express myself clearly and succinctly (5 bucks right there). I assume that this is what a particular person was referring to earlier this year, when I was told point blank that I ‘sound white’ when I speak. It...
Why a Hidatsa Cares About Pe'Sla (from my...
By: Twyla Baker-Demaray One of the earliest memories I can recall of my childhood is of my mother taking me and my siblings to ceremony back home on the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation. My tribe, the Hidatsa, is a matrilineal one; meaning we draw our family ties and kinships from our mother’s line. It’s not quite the mirror opposite of the Western patrilineal style where you carry your...
So I’ve had to remove ‘Plains Woman Song’ from here, just for a little while, as it has found a publisher! It will be appearing in Yellow Medicine Review (http://www.yellowmedicinereview.com) in the Fall 2012 edition. I’m pretty stoked. It will be the first creative piece I’ve had published in over a decade. I started out writing creatively pretty young, and I had...
Cookies for Breakfast: So a Girl Walks into a... →
breakfastcookie: This is something that happened to a friend of mine in her own words. “So, on Friday night my friend and I were at her house and wanted to get out and do something for the evening. We brainstormed ideas and she brought up the idea of seeing a show at the Laugh Factory. I’d never been, I thought…
I am convinced that most people do not grow up… We marry and dare to have...– Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter (via growing-orbits)
A Native Woman's Perspective on the 4th of July
Today is my dad’s 74th birthday; thus it is a day worth celebrating. Because he survived, despite the concerted effort made by this country you’re celebrating, to exterminate him. He survived boarding school, the attempted robbing of his language, physical and emotional beatings, hunger, crippling poverty, the deaths of his parents when he was a child, and eventually alcoholism and...
Listening to my husband talk to himself as he...
James: Imagine if we just could just show these people the internet?
James: (about christina hendricks) Oh my God. Look at her. Where did they find this woman?
James: Look at the crotch in those pants.
James: Joan looks like a porno Wilma Flintstone.
James: Oh God, Megan's teeth look like Billy Bob teeth, or like Shane McGowan... if Shane McGowan was really pretty and spoke French.
James: I'd screw Joan but I'd have to do it in the winter, because in the summer she'd get all sweaty. That's why her husband won't bring her to Vietnam.
James: What the fuck?
Me: He isn't really doing that. It's a hallucination, trust me. He's sick. I mean, where would Megan be?
James: I don't think I've ever been so sick that I thought I fucked and murdered someone. Ever. I have NEVER been that sick.
After I go to the gym once
whatshouldwecallme: Expected results: Reality:
I hate that I want to write on my tumblr more than I want to on my dissertation. :/ Need some strength!!
And there wasn’t a sound. Quiet. Quiet enough to cause you to make a sound, just to see if sound still existed. Quiet so loud you could almost feel deep inside your chest; an aching, echoing emptiness that felt as though it would stretch on forever, even as it lasted second by second. I felt myself falling into the absence, swallowed by the enormous soundless void. Nothing, no sound, no...